


Just pretend it isn't real

by smol_fangirl



Category: Julie and The Phantoms (TV)
Genre: Aged-Up Character(s), Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Asexual Julie Molina, Asexuality, Dorks in Love, F/M, Fake/Pretend Relationship, M/M, Mild Language, Mutual Pining, Self-Indulgent, Sharing Clothes, Sharing a Bed, conversations about the necessity of sex in a later chapter, mention of a minor character death, pining-typical levels of angst
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-25
Updated: 2021-03-01
Packaged: 2021-03-09 00:02:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,664
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27194837
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/smol_fangirl/pseuds/smol_fangirl
Summary: After a desperate lie, Julie finds herself in a fake relationship with Luke. And even though Luke acts like the perfect boyfriend, she knows he can't possibly have feelings for her. After all, she's asexual and there's no way this could ever work out. Right?“Hey, Jules, no,” he whispers back, and suddenly his arms are around her, a strong hold as the ground seems to crumble under her feet. “I don’t mind. Really. I’d do that. I mean, if you want me to.”There it is. The decision. This moment in which she has to make a move. Catching the hesitant but soft smile on his lips feels like glimpsing into the future. She’s read the stories, seen the movies. Agreeing to this is touching flames.But deep down, she knows she craves their warmth on her skin.“Okay, then. We’re doing this.”
Relationships: Alex & Julie Molina & Luke Patterson & Reggie, Alex/Willie (Julie and The Phantoms), Flynn & Julie Molina, Julie Molina/Luke Patterson
Comments: 54
Kudos: 248





	1. "No big deal."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fic title taken from "Soon You'll Get Better" by Taylor Swift  
> Chapter titles are a quote from each chapter  
> Word count: 3.3k
> 
> Happy Asexuality Awareness Week! If you are not on the ace or aro spectrum, be aware. We could sneak up on your cake ^^  
> I wanted to write this fic for quite a few months now, and I am beyond excited for the other chapters. I hope you will enjoy this just as much :D

He knocks just as the microwave’s loud _ping_ echoes through the kitchen. Humming along to the song in her mind, Julie dances to the door, where she finds him with a smile brighter than the setting sun.

“Hey, Jules,” he greets her, pulling her into a warm hug.

“I still think it’s weird that you knock,” she replies, but Luke just laughs and follows her into the hallway.

“What’s that song you’ve been humming?”

“Oh, that.” Against her will, she flinches. “Um. It’s called Paper Rings? But you won’t like it, it’s by Taylor Swift.”

Sneaking a glimpse at him, she catches the way he bites his lip, and the chuckle that follows. “Sounded like you were happy,” he says.

So he’s not in the mood for another argument about music. Relief washes over her.

She shrugs. “Well, I was looking forward to this, we haven’t done a movie night in ages. I mean, I’m happy that Flynn got you all these gigs, but I missed this.”

“Yeah, I know, me too. Bless her soul, though.” He trails behind her as she walks back into the kitchen, only to stop and take a deep breath when the sweet scent of salted caramel popcorn lingers in his nose. “Oh my god, you got me popcorn?”

“Of course.”

“And you added a bit of cinnamon?”

She raises an eyebrow. “ _Duh_.” 

“I love you.”

Turning away, she prays he doesn’t see how he stole her breath away for a moment, but he’s too busy sneaking popcorn out of the bowl without burning his fingertips to notice. The sight of him chewing with an open mouth paints a smile on her lips.

“You’re worse than Reggie, do you know that? And I always thought he was a snacky person.”

“I didn’t have dinner. Alex and making sushi didn’t exactly work out,” Luke explains, swallowing. “And you and I both know that Reggie would tear down all the snacks in like ten minutes and then complain throughout the entire movie if he was here.”

Shoveling more popcorn into his mouth, he grabs the bowl and throws himself on the couch. He’s not exactly wrong – the last movie night with the boys ended with Reggie running to the guest toilet right before Elle Woods rocked the trial. When he trotted back into the living room, he swore he’d never eat neither ice cream nor chips ever again.

Never only lasted about a week.

“Tell me about it,” Julie sighs, carrying their drinks and some candy to the coffee table. “At least his parents finally got their shit together. My dad was about to buy you guys a second couch for the studio.”

“Language, Molina,” he scolds her with a grin. He pats the spot next to her on the couch, and pouts when she walks over to the TV instead and cowers in front of the DVD shelf.

“Do you wanna watch something or not?”

“I could watch you all evening.”

Glancing over her shoulder, she raises an eyebrow at him.

“Okay, fine,” he gives in with a sigh. “What do you think about Bohemian Rhapsody?”

“Luke, we already agreed on watching Ghostbusters, remember? And before you try to get me with your puppy eyes, just keep in mind that it has Chris Hemsworth. Half-naked, I think.”

As she turns the TV on, he throws his head against the cushion and groans, letting her know without a word that she won.

 _Allos_. How was a naked torso that much of a weakness?

By the time the theme song echoes through the living room, Luke brightens up. Throwing one leg in the air, he starts shredding on an air guitar and sings along so loudly that Julie just sighs and covers her ears. When the music fades out, he flashes her a grin and mimics one of the guitar flips that, with a real guitar, make her stomach flutter every time.

Unimpressed, she rolls her eyes at him.

“You love me,” he mouths silently before he puts his arm around her and pulls her against his chest.

She knows better than to protest.

Her head on his shoulder. His arm looped around her waist. His hand hovering in front of her mouth, feeding her popcorn without as much as a single word shared. His breath dancing over her hair whenever he laughs.

In her chest, her heart sighs with happiness. It’s been too long since she last laid on the couch with him like this, alone in the dimly lit living room, the scent of his deodorant lingering in her nose and his embrace keeping her warm.

Inhaling, she snuggles closer. _Perfect._

Except suddenly, Luke shrieks. “Oh my god, Jules!”

“Shh,” she hushes him, “they’re about to hire Kevin. I don’t wanna miss this.”

He pauses the movie.

“Hey!” She sits up and shoves his arm, but he stares so intently at the coffee table that she’s not sure he even notices. There’s a pout on his lips.

“You didn’t tell me they finally sent the prom pics.”

“No need to mope about it, they literally arrived today,” she replies, heart racing against her chest as he carefully looks through the photographs. Glimpsing over his shoulder, she finds him lingering on one in particular – he’s standing behind her, arms wrapped around her as they both grin into the camera.

The memory is still bursting with colors in her mind. She pulled him over to the photographer when he was still in the dark blue suit with his fluffy shag, probably an hour before the boys got up on stage and performed. Not that there was anything wrong with his sleeveless shirts or his sweaty hair, on the contrary. Julie loved looking at him after a show, loved the way his whole face lit up, the bold lines of his veins on his arms, his hair clinging to his forehead.

It just didn’t make for nice prom pictures to pass around.

“Any chance you could send that one to me?” he asks now without looking at her.

“Sure. I think Flynn took some pics of how you carried me to the car, would you want these too?”

“You have pictures of that?”

“Not yet,” she shrugs. Without his arm around her, it’s getting colder, so she nods at him to lean back again. “But I’m trying. I think she might wait till she can post them on your birthday, though, just to embarrass us.”

“You mean, embarrass _me_. I bet you still look gorgeous in them.”

“Simp,” she teases him just as he presses Play on the remote. Winking, he pulls her right back into her favorite place in the world.

Later, right when Rowan possesses Abby, she can hear Carlos sneak into the kitchen. Their eyes meet and a devious grin hushes over his face as he pretends to gag at the sight in front of him. Flipping him off, she intertwines her hand with Luke’s, just to spite her brother.

If Luke noticed him, he doesn’t let it slip.

> **Julie: (picture)**
> 
> **There you go, simp**

His phone lights up in the dark, just as his head hits the pillow on the couch.

A smile on his lips, Luke unlocks it to the one photo he liked best from her prom. If he’s honest, it had been one of his favorite nights ever. Rocking the stage for her entire school. Dancing with her for what felt like hours, her curls brushing him in a soft tickle whenever he spun her around. Looking at her in her yellow dress, shining brighter with every laugh she graced him with. Treating her to a milkshake in her favorite diner at 4 am before they sat in front of the garage, eyes stuck on the stars twinkling above them. Her hand holding on to him. 

Staring at the screen, his smile deepens. A few seconds later, he has a new background picture.

> **_Thanks, Jules!_ **
> 
> **_Forgot to ask, are you coming tomorrow?_ **
> 
> **Julie: As if I’d miss it**
> 
> **Can’t believe you had to ask that, beanie boy**
> 
> **_You could join us for Bright if you want_ **
> 
> **Are you still trying to get me to join the band?**
> 
> **_Ofc_ **
> 
> **_And I won’t stop till you do_ ** **♥**
> 
> **Dork**

They’ve been friends long enough for him to know that this means Yes, at least to the performance. Everything else will just be a matter of time. And puppy eyes, maybe.

> **_Can’t wait_ **

The curve of his mouth stays plastered on his face until sleep finally gets a hold of him.

He’s in the audience.

Right as the headlights stop blinding her, she discovers him, leaning against the bar, beer in his hand, eyes wandering over her body. A shiver runs over her spine.

She can’t escape the stage fast enough.

“That was great!” Alex exclaims as soon as the door to the musty backstage room closes and the cheers of the crowd fade into an indistinct background noise. “Julie, you were smoking out there.”

“Totally,” Luke grins at her, one arm looping around her shoulders. The familiar scent of his sweat somehow gives her comfort now instead of the usual urge to shove him into the bathroom.

“Nah, you guys are the actual rock stars here,” she replies, slapping Luke’s sticky hands away from her curls.

Reggie snorts. “Not sure Bobby would agree to that.”

Luke frowns, his grip on Julie tightening. “He was here?”

“Yeah, but I saw him leaving when we walked off the stage,” Alex says. Looking at Julie, he adds, “He shouldn’t bother us today.”

“Oh, and I saw Kayla!” Reggie chimes in, “Do you wanna go over later and have a drink? You could say hi to Carrie.”

“She hates me now, remember? Besides, I really need to go to the bathroom.”

“We’ll wait for you by the bar!” Luke shouts after her. Without looking back, she gives him a thumbs-up and hurries through the door.

Three steps away from the bathroom door, the all too familiar sound of his voice stops her right in her track. “Hey, Julita!”

Closing her eyes, she wishes herself into another dimension. Slowly, she turns around, not even bothering to force a smile on her lips. “Oh, hey Bobby.”

He wiggles his eyebrows.

A glance at the bar, and she knows it would take Luke too long to get through to her, even if he noticed her silent plea for help. Biting her lips, she focuses on the poster on the wall behind him.

“You were smoking hot on that stage! Wanna celebrate and grab some tacos with me? With you, I wouldn’t even need any hot sauce.”

If she takes a deep breath, will the urge to run away falter? “Look, Bobby, I…” she sighs, not sure how to shut him down, for now and forever. 

To her surprise, his smile drops. “Yeah, I get it. You can’t, yada yada. It’s because of Luke, am I right?”

“What?”

“You two are dating, aren’t you?”

Her eyes dart to Luke. He’s beaming at Reggie, enthusiastically patting his shoulder as they talk to a fan. She wouldn’t be surprised if he started to vibrate from excitement – sometimes he had more passion than fit into his body, and a grin too wide for his cheeks to carry.

A smile hushes over her face. It dies only when she looks back at Bobby. She hates lying, hates the taste it leaves on her tongue, but if she’s honest to herself, she hates his constant attention more. “Oh. Oh, yeah. Sorry.”

“No big deal,” he says. The expression on his face makes it clear he doesn’t mean it, but she can’t bring herself to care. Watching him disappear in the crowd, she hopes she never has to see him again.

“We gotta talk.”

Luke whirls around to her, his smile deepening as his eyes settle on her. “Jules!” he cheers, but she doesn’t let him continue whatever post-show rant he has on the tip of his tongue and drags him to an empty corner.

Rubbing his arm where her fingernails dug into his skin, he frowns at her. “Are you okay? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

“I just told Bobby we’re dating.”

His eyes widen.

Her heartbeat threatens to burst through the veins in her neck.

“What?” he stammers. Frowns, again. “But you’re ace,” he adds, which is not quite the objection Julie expected.

“I panicked, okay?” she shoots back, crossing her arms. “And just because I’m ace doesn’t mean I can’t be in a relationship.”

Flinching, he stares at the ground. “You could be aro, too.”

There’s a huff sitting in the back of her throat. She swallows it down. Steals a glimpse at him, and another one. She thinks about his finger brushing against her hand when they stand next to each other. His gaze lingering on her face, but not exactly on her eyes. The way he brightens up when he’s playing on his guitar, unaware of how the sight alone captivates her.

She sighs. “Yeah, I’m definitely not.”

“Oh.”

“But that’s not the…”

She never gets to finish that sentence.

“Whoop whoop! Congratulations!” Willie seems to materialize out of nowhere behind Luke. He almost jumps against him, patting his back and nodding at Julie.

“Thanks, man,” Luke grins, “Though Julie deserves all the praise. She’s a rockstar.” Her knees tremble at the twinkle in his eyes.

“I wasn’t talking about the show, dude,” Willie laughs, “I meant you two! Bobby just told me, though he seemed a bit down. He wasn’t making that up, right?”

Julie bites back a groan. She should’ve known better, so why is she surprised?

“Oh, that.” She forces a laugh out of her lungs, even though she feels sick to the stomach at the idea of having to explain this to Willie, or anyone really.

Just as she’s about to take a deep breath, Luke’s hand wraps around hers.

Staring up at him, she finds a smile on his lips, and a wink just for her. Before a single coherent thought comes back to her, he turns to Willie and says, “Yeah, no, he wasn’t. Thank you! Oh, and if you’re looking for Alex, I think he’s waiting for you backstage.”

“Nice. See ya later then!”

With one last grin and wiggling eyebrows, Willie disappears in the crowd. They’re alone. Again. Except it doesn’t feel like it, not with all these people around her, laughing and chatting and dancing to the music coming from the speakers. Not with Bobby here.

So she squeezes his hand and drags him out of the club.

The cool air of the summer night feels like a dive into cold water.

Behind Luke, the door slams shut and to her relief, she can’t spot a single soul around the building. Dropping his hand, she whirls around to face him.

“Are you insane?” she hisses, “Flynn is going to kill me!”

He huffs, and it feels like a gunshot to her heart. “I’m not letting Bobby keep hitting on you, Jules! Why didn’t you tell me he was still bothering you?”

“I didn’t expect him to be here tonight, okay? And so what, you’re just gonna pretend you’re my boyfriend now?”

Against her will, she’s gotten closer to him, too close. His breath plays hide and seek with her cheeks, and the light of the street lanterns reflects in his hazel eyes.

He takes a step back. Rubs his neck. She can see the wheels turning in his head. “I mean… technically you told him it was true first.”

Speechless, she glares up at him. After what feels like a second in slow motion, she recognizes the look on his face, and it hits her right in the stomach. He’s scared. Of what, she’s not exactly sure, but she knows he wants to help her, because that’s just Luke, and he’s always been there for her.

With a groan, she hides her face in her hands. “Oh my god, this is all my fault, I’m sorry” she mumbles.

“Hey, Jules, no,” he whispers back, and suddenly his arms are around her, a strong hold as the ground seems to crumble under her feet. “I don’t mind. Really. I’d do that. I mean, if you want me to.”

There it is. The decision. This moment in which she has to make a move. Catching the hesitant but soft smile on his lips feels like glimpsing into the future. She’s read the stories, seen the movies. Agreeing to this is touching flames.

But deep down, she knows she craves their warmth on her skin.

“Okay, then. We’re doing this.”

In return, Luke tightens his grip on her and presses a kiss on her hair.

About an hour later, Alex drops them off by her house. They wave after him until the car disappears behind the corner, and then, the night grows too quiet around them. Clinging on to the straps of her backpack, she follows Luke up the driveway.

“Hey, Jules?” he asks quietly, stopping till she’s by his side.

“Yeah?”

“How objectively pretty do you think Bobby is?”

His question hits her out of nowhere. It’s an old game they all used to play during lunch breaks in high school. The tradition started with Flynn, but soon after they met, the boys huddled around her phone too, judging everything from classmates and outfits to music video aesthetics and color palettes in interior designs.

They’ve only ever judged people they didn’t really know, though.

“Hm. I don’t know,” she hesitantly replies. “He’d be prettier if he was nicer.”

Luke nods, lost in whatever thought is written all over his mind. Right when they reach the front door and the goodnight tickles her tongue, however, his voice gently disrupts the silence. “And how pretty do you think I am?”

Lost for an answer, Julie stops. There’s no scale his beauty would fit on, no measurement for his perfect soft smile or the spark in his hazel eyes, but she knows that some things are better left unsaid.

She clears her throat. “Fishing for compliments much, huh?”

He lets out an amused huff, but doesn’t ask again. Holding her breath, she trails down the stairs behind him. Her mind races faster than the cars her dad likes to watch on TV every Sunday while he folds the laundry. There’s so much to talk about. Their performance, Reggie’s killer solo. Bobby.

They should definitely talk about Bobby, and their fake relationship. But for only the second time since she met him, Julie doesn’t know how.

Luke comes to a halt. Turns around, his duffle bag wandering between his hands. “So, um. Goodnight.”

“Goodnight,” she smiles.

Usually, he’d give her a hug. Instead he scratches his neck, the corners of his mouth twitching, then opens the door to the garage.

Biting her lips, she decides that the night can’t get much weirder. “Hey, Luke.”

He whirls back around to her.

“You’re beautiful to me.”

Underneath the stars, she doesn’t see the blush spreading on his cheeks.

Laying down on the couch, Luke knows sleep won’t find him anytime soon. The darkness of the night lights up his mind, his thoughts going off like fireworks, too loud, too bright, and leaving too much smoke to see clearly.

 _You’re beautiful to me_.

He should’ve told her he felt the same way about her. When he closes his eyes, all he sees is Julie in front of that club, in his flannel jacket he gave her when he noticed the goosebumps on her arms. He sees her looking up at him out of her big brown eyes, and remembers how his heart skipped a beat. “Promise me something, okay?” she asked in a whisper, “Promise me you won’t ever fall in love with me.”

“Sure. I promise,” he lied back, ignoring the sting in his chest. 

_I won’t. Because I already am_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you [@captainkippen](https://archiveofourown.org/users/captainkippen) for helping me with the movie and snack choice. If you want to gush over the show and the fake dating trope with me, you can find me on my [tumblr](https://smolfangirl.tumblr.com/)!


	2. "Just curious."

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Luke sighs with a frustration that reminds her of writing sessions where he can’t force his ideas into order. “Fine, but I won’t change my profile pic. It’s my favorite.” And from her prom, which she will absolutely not think about right now.  
> Staring at the ceiling, Julie lets herself fall down on the mattress, her head resting only a few inches away from his elbows. Her hair must tickle his skin, because he gently brushes it away and twirls a strand around his finger.  
> “I’m not asking you to,” she replies.  
> “Good.”  
> A little pause in which he continues to play with her hair. Her eyes flutter shut, and it takes all her restraint to repress the content sigh on the tip of her tongue.  
> “So, boundaries.”  
> “What do you mean?” she asks, eyes still closed, careful to conceal the memory of Flynn’s words in a tone of confusion.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Word count: 5.3k
> 
> First of all: a huuuge thank you to everyone who commented on the first chapter, it means so much to me that this story that lived in my head for months reached other people as well and (hopefully) makes them feel seen and understood.  
> Second of all: I know it's been MONTHS since I posted the first chapter and I am so sorry for the delay! Ever since November I've been struggling with both a huge writing block when it came to this project, and my mental health regarding sharing my writing. I'll share updates on my progress and posting schedules on my [Tumblr](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/view/smolfangirl/search/just+pretend+it+isn't+real) \- and ofc you can subscribe if you don't want to miss an update ♥

Luke lingers in the kitchen, torn between the last apple and the last banana in the fruit basket when Julie breezes down the stairs, backpack slung over one shoulder.

“Jules! Are you leaving?”

Turning around, she blinks at him with a look of guilt that reminds him of Reggie whenever he snuck an entire chocolate bar out of the old drawer in the studio. But then she flashes him a smile and shoves her phone into the back pocket of her jeans, and he wonders if he’s projecting. Unlike Reggie, Julie always asks before she gorges on his snacks.

(He never says no.)

“Oh, yeah. Um, don’t you guys usually rehearse at this time?”

“Right!” Luke exclaims, glimpsing at the clock next to the kitchen window. Leaving both the apple and the banana behind, he trails behind her toward the door. “I just wanted to get my hug before you go.”

She raises an eyebrow at him.

“I did! You know me, Jules. I can’t live without hugs. Julie hugs, especially. Juhugs? Huglies? That doesn’t sound right. Huglinas? No…”

Another unimpressed stare. He sighs. “Fine, I wanted to get a pre-rehearsal snack. But I would love a hug. Pretty please?”

With a sigh, she gives in and nods. In a second, he pulls her in, until her cheek presses against his chest and her hands wrap around his waist. He didn’t lie a bit, at least not about the hugs – there’s something about the way she fits so perfectly into his arms, how the curve of her neck welcomes his face as the scent of her hair moisturizer lingers in his nose, that’s like a sneak peek at heaven.

She breaks away too soon.

“Okay, sunshine, I really gotta go. See you for dinner,” she smiles, one hand gliding down his arm.

“Have fun,” he croaks back, then clears his throat. “Wait, you’re not back till dinner?”

As she grabs the car keys from the shelf, a laugh pearls over her lips. “No, and you don’t have to pout. I’m meeting Flynn for coffee after work.”

“You hate coffee.”

“Fine, she gets coffee, and I’ll get a milkshake. Happy, Patterson?”

_No_.

“I’ll take it,” he replies with a dramatic sigh.

Only when the door falls shut behind her does he realize _why_ she might be meeting Flynn for coffee. Alone. Out of the house, away from rehearsal.

Away from him.

He’s screwed.

There’s no way she’ll keep their little play pretend from her best friend. Even if she tried, she’d crumble under the pressure of Flynn’s glare because she knows her better than anyone, and the only secrets they ever hold onto end up wrapped in beautiful paper. Luke can see the scene play out in his mind – the overtly wide grin on Julie’s face as the lie hushes over her lips, and the way she tilts her head when she caves.

So if Julie talks to Flynn about this “romantic” relationship… they’re gonna have to talk about it too.

He’s definitely screwed.

In the studio, the guys are already waiting for him. While Reggie fumbles with the settings on the amplifier, Alex sits by the drums, arms crossed, a frown plastered on his forehead.

Luke shoots them what he hopes is a charming smile. “Hey, thanks for waiting! You didn’t start yet, right?”

“Is Julie coming?” Alex inquires instead of giving him an answer, eyes stuck on the door as if he could shoot any intruder out of the way with a death glare.

Luke shakes his head. “No, she has her piano lesson today, remember?”

“Okay, good.”

Frowning, Luke grabs his electric guitar from the couch. Rehearsal without Julie on the couch or, even better, on the piano, is something he’d never immediately describe as _good_ , even without the slight bias of his feelings for her.

But Alex doesn’t look or sound like he’s in the mood for any objection. “So, when exactly did you plan on telling us about you and Julie? Or are you working on another PowerPoint?”

_Shit_.

A jolt of surprise kickstarts his pulse, when on second thought, it shouldn’t. Of course Alex knew. Luke sent Willie straight to him at the club, and Willie already barely contained his delight in front of Julie. Of course he’d tell Alex. And of course Alex wouldn’t bring it up in front of Julie, because even with all the teasing and mocking, his best friends respect his decision to pine in secret. (After mocking his life choices, of course.)

Next to him, Reggie looks like a deer caught in bright headlights. “Another PowerPoint? Wait, do I have to take notes again?”

“Jeez, no,” Luke shoots back, his grip on his guitar grip tightening. One time. One time, and they still tease him about it, even though it was the best presentation of his life, animated slides and all.

Okay, maybe they tease him _because_ it was the best presentation of his life…

“No one’s making a PowerPoint,” he says, aiming for a casual tone, like he’s talking about the Los Angeles Lakers with Alex’ dad. 

“Yeah, this time,” Alex adds.

Sighing in relief, Reggie falls onto the couch. “Oh thank god. I don’t have my notebook with me, and I’m not just going to scribble in my songbook, you know that.”

“No one needs to write down anything. It’s not what you think it is,” Luke explains, which earns him a snort from Alex that sets his cheeks on fire.

“Uh-huh. So you’re not totally in love with her and you didn’t finally level up enough to actually ask her out? Because it’s been two years, I’m not buying that shit anymore. There’s definitely something going on.”

How he wishes Alex was right… but the memory of that night flashes through his mind with the same clarity it followed him into his dreams the last two nights. The cold spring air under dark skies, and the contrast of her warm eyes. The reluctance in her voice, the awkwardness spilled over every word when she asked, _begged_ him not to fall in love with her. His jacket on her, too big and yet perfectly right on her slim shoulders. _You’re beautiful to me_.

Beautiful, but not her boyfriend. Not for real, ever.

Alex is wrong.

“Could you keep it down, dude?” Luke hisses back, the echo of his promise ringing in his ears. “What if someone hears you?”

Alex huffs, the drumstick banging against a cymbal in rattling disagreement. “Like who? The ghost chef Carlos insists is your roommate?”

“You don’t get it, okay? It’s not real!”

“Wait, what?” Reggie gasps, underlined by an awful screeching sound from his bass.

Groaning, Luke flops on the couch and rubs his temples. “We’re just pretending to be together so Bobby leaves her alone. That’s all.”

“He’s still hitting on Julie? Man, talk about not taking a hint,” Reggie scoffs. As he sits down next to Luke, he rubs his shoulder. “That’s rough, bro.”

“Thanks, Reg.”

“Hold on,” Alex chimes in, and when he jumps up, Luke realizes he’s wearing his “band braincell” t-shirt, a birthday gift from Flynn and of course the only piece of clothing that would add insult to injury today. “So you’re telling me you two are acting?”

Looking down on the floor, Luke shrugs. “Yeah. I mean, she is.”

“That’s not acting, Luke. That’s real.”

“Yeah, just like your chemistry.”

With a sigh, Alex sinks back onto his stool. “Reggie, if you say ooze again, I _will_ throw my drumstick at you, and I don’t care if it’ll break.”

“Rude,” Reggie mumbles in reply, and the pout only melts away when Luke pulls him into a hug.

“Just don’t tell anyone, okay? And no country songs about it, _Reginald_.”

“Fine,” he sighs, before a grin creeps over his face. “But only if you invite us to your fake wedding.”

As soon as the haze of melodies and scales lifts and she steps out onto the street, the feeling’s back. Two hours of focused bliss in front of black and white keys, and now this sense of doom threatens to haunt her in every left-over hour of the week.

Taking a deep breath, Julie starts marching down the street. But with every step, the thoughts she tries to outrun cling to her heels. It’s her own fault. She lied to Bobby. To Willie. She let Luke lie, too, just stood there and watched and held his hand. And because she wanted to hold his hand again, because of her stupid feelings for him, she agreed to fake dating him.

Why did she agree to fake dating him?

It was stupid. Stupid and reckless and heartbreaking, and Flynn would list all the reasons she should’ve said no before she’d pull her into a hug and promise her it wasn’t the biggest mistake she’d ever made when they both knew better.

That’s exactly what Julie needs, a hug. Especially from someone she’s not desperately in love with, and whose scent she wouldn’t buy in a bottle. Until then, music is the only thing close enough to a hug. With a heavy sigh, she turns her headphones on, and presses Shuffle on her playlist.

_Wildest Dreams._

Skip.

_I Knew You Were Trouble._

Skip.

_Treacherous._

“Oh damnit, Taylor!” Julie groans and frantically scrolls through Spotify. Past 1989 and Red and Lover and every other album and playlist with her songs in it. Sometimes, her lyrics fit Julie’s life too well. Now it’s only a matter of time before they fit _All Too Well_.

Sliding into the booth, two things catch her attention. One, Flynn’s ten minutes early. Two, there’s already an empty coffee mug in front of her.

“Rough day?” she asks and pulls her into a side hug.

“You know it, girl,” Flynn sighs before picking up the last crumbs of the biscotti with her index finger. “But at least my boss didn’t have a meltdown over lost band busses, so that’s a win, I guess. And he let me go half an hour earlier.”

“So that’s why you got a head start on me… Did he finally give you an update on that whole East Coast trip?”

“Of course not. It’s still up in the air if they’ll let me come along, not that it’d be important for me to plan ahead,” Flynn huffs. Sighing, she flips her braids over her shoulder and leans against the cushion. Her eyes wander over Julie’s face before the tiniest frown sneaks over her forehead.

That’s when Julie knows her time is running out.

The realization hits in her stomach, too, and she’d consider running away if the sweat on the back of her thighs didn’t cling to the seat like damp glue already. The twitch of Flynn’s eyebrow seals her fate.

“But you didn’t want me to come here just to talk about a straight white man with both anger management and communication issues, did you?” 

“What, no! I want to hear about your day, duh,” Julie shoots back too quickly. Her fingers itch to flip through the menu on the table, to distract her from the overdue confession for just a moment more when her reply inevitably fails to fool her best friend.

Offering her a lame grin, Julie hides her hands under her thighs and steers her gaze away from the menu. As she leans in, Flynn crosses her arms with an expression usually reserved for one of Reggie’s random but inaccurate fact rambles. “Yeah, that’s why we’re sitting in this random milkshake bar instead of your living room. Or even better, on Luke’s couch. You know I like my eye candy after work.”

At the mention of his name, Julie must have grimaced, because suddenly Flynn lights up like she just solved the last question in one of her crossword puzzles. “Oooh, this is about Luke, isn’t it? You don’t want him to hear this.”

“Maybe,” Julie mumbles into her half-open hair.

Flynn’s elbow nudges her arm. She shuffles closer, her almost whispered reply annoyingly audible over all the café chatter, “Spill the tea, sis.”

Biting her lip, Julie thinks of all the regrettable choices they lived through together. Red jeans and pink jackets in sixth grade. The cheap wig Julie wore to school a year later, when she wanted straight hair like the girls in their teenage magazines. Flynn’s obsession with smokey eyeshadows in 9th grade and the bright blush she wore with it. The first and only horror movie Julie ever saw, and the cans of soda and bittersweet gallons of ice cream they hid behind. So many regrets in the memory reel of her teenage years, and the single one Flynn saved her from when she convinced her to reapply for the music program after her mom died. If Flynn would’ve been in that bar, maybe she could’ve saved Julie from the first regret of her adult life.

Or maybe she would’ve marched into this misery of her own making anyway.

“So…” Julie drags the vowel into another breath and gives her best friend the world’s lamest jazz hands, “Luke and I are kinda fake dating?”

Flynn blinks.

And blinks.

When Julie drops her hands into her lap, Flynn still stares at her like the browser in her mind keeps buffering.

“Fake dating?” she finally repeats, crunching her nose.

With a nod, Julie studies the leftover foam patterns in the empty mug on the table.

A sigh rolls over Flynn’s lips. “Okay, I love you, Jules, but I think I need a soda for this. Or two.”

Nodding, Julie bolts up from the seat. “Yup, I got you,” she declares as she fumbles for her wallet and hurries to the counter.

When she beelines past a couple holding hands over their table, she decidedly ignores the sting in her chest and the added force in her steps.

Flynn slurps the watered-down puddle of soda up her straw when Julie wraps up her incoherent ramble on the gig and its aftermath all the way to the garage. With the last word, she takes a deep breath and brushes a loose hair strand away from her burning cheeks, catching her bottom lip between her teeth.

“Don’t judge me?” she pleas, channeling the sad puppy eyes that always work on Luke.

Unlike Luke, however, Flynn doesn’t seem impressed by the intensity of her pout. “You’re in deep,” she says, and bites into the lemon slice of her second soda as if they went through this conversation once a week.

(They do, somewhat. While the circumstances are certainly new, the tragic extent of Julie’s pining for Luke isn’t.)

“Trust me, I know,” Julie mutters. Her hand wraps around the cold glass as the last remains of her strawberry milkshake roll through the straw and down her throat. A bland sadness lingers in this sip, like these strawberries got crushed by her mind running in circular paths over and over.

The glass clinks against the table in a loud protest as she sets it down with too much force.

Flynn shoots her a worried look. “Do you need me to try and find something positive here?”

A silent, sad nod.

“Okay, um… maybe you’ll get to kiss? I mean, given all we know about fake dating, chances aren’t too bad that you make out and finally realize you’ve both been into each other for the last two years – wait, making out wasn’t on the repulsive list, right?”

Julie doesn’t have to imagine making out with Luke to know the answer. Her mind paints her a scene for it, anyway – either to make sure or because that picture comes way too easily now.

“It’s not,” she replies, shaking the phantom pull of his mouth off her lips. “But I don’t think he’d make out with me if he can avoid it. He said he doesn’t want Bobby to bother me again, and that he won’t fall in love with me, so I’d say that’s a pretty clear No for kissing, right?”

“Did you talk about that yet? Like, boundaries?”

She shakes her head. They didn’t and they have to and she’s about as excited for that as she was for getting her wisdom teeth pulled out. And this time, no anesthesia or painkiller will numb her feelings.

> **Flynn: Here’s your reminder to talk to Luke v.v**
> 
> **I know you’re hiding in your room rn**

Julie isn’t hiding in her room. That’d be ridiculous and immature, and she’s 18 and old enough to know better. She just goes home and up the stairs, and sits down at her desk to flip through some college brochures that were collecting dust on her desk. She forgets to put on her glasses, so when her dad knocks on the door to call her for dinner, she complains about her headache until he offers to bring her a plate upstairs. Then he lets her suffer in bed, her sleeping mask staying on as long as she hears the boys laughing around the dining table. When the door falls shut behind them, Julie already stands under the shower, humming along to a song decidedly not by Taylor Swift.

So, she’s not hiding. Her dad knows where she is, which means Luke knows too. That’s not hiding.

Or maybe it is, and Flynn doesn’t need to know.

> **_I’m not!_ **
> 
> **_Just reading the fic you sent me last week_ **
> 
> **_And here’s your reminder to pack your laptop charger for work_ **
> 
> **Damn, thanks, almost forgot it again, you’re a lifesaver!**
> 
> **But seriously. Talk. To. Him!!!**

The streetlights cast an orange glow on her windowpane as she wraps the blanket closer around her and shoves her glasses back up her nose. As she adds another kudos to the She-Ra fanfic and waits for the next chapter to load, a new message pops up in the notification bar. Probably from Luke. It’s not hard to imagine the amount of pouty emojis waiting in their chat right now – his dramatic tendencies every time she misses a rehearsal no longer surprise her. If he settles with a few whiny texts, she’s lucky.

She blinks the icon out of sight.

Before her eyes skip past the chapter title of her literary escape, however, the all too familiar sound of one long and two short knocks on her door kick her heart against her ribcage. Is it too early to pretend to be asleep? She glimpses at her phone. 9:13pm. Definitely too early. 

“Um, come in,” she shouts, hiding her phone underneath her pillow.

The door slowly swings open to reveal Luke. He’s rubbing his neck and sways on his feet, staying at least one inch away from the wooden floor of her room where he’d usually march right to the bean bag in front of her bed.

“You feeling better?” he asks, and the sight of him fumbling with his silver ring now makes her nauseous.

_Talk to him_ , Flynn said. As if it’d be that easy.

“Yeah, thanks.”

As he nods, his teeth catch his bottom lip, and she quickly drops her gaze to the lonely bean bag. “Cool. Just wanted to check,” he explains, like he ever gives her a reason for knocking on her door.

Julie tries on a hesitant smile, unsure if it suits her. “Was there something else you wanted?”

His gaze wanders down the stairs, then back to her. If she listens closely, she can hear the TV past the silence, and her brother imitating the Mario Cart sound effects in his room.

Luke steps inside and leaves the door only a gap open. “Seems like we’re Instagram-official,” he mumbles, eyes stuck on the cream white carpet around her bed.

She’s pretty sure every single ounce of blood just left her cheeks. “What are you talking about?”

“I just checked my phone and, um, my DMs are full of people asking me about us, so I guess it’s like, a thing now.” Quieter, he adds, “I think we should talk about this whole dating stuff.”

“Damnit,” she mutters under her breath, then louder, “You’re right. We should set some rules. Get our story straight.”

“Ha, straight.”

A hesitant chuckle on his lips, he finally plops down on the bean bag and rests his head on both of his hands, elbows sinking into her mattress. With his fingers covering his cheeks, his eyes threaten to take over his entire face – if she didn’t know better, she’d say he looks like the Merriam-Webster’s definition of sweet innocence.

What started as an eyeroll quickly ends in a grin formed by the contagious curve of his lips. “You know what I mean.”

“Maybe,” he says, eyelashes fluttering in a blink. “And while we’re at it, we could take some pictures too. You know, to make it Instagram-official.”

“You said it already is Instagram-official.”

Now he’s the one to roll his eyes. “I mean official-official. Uh, just in case Bobby stalks your profile.”

The sound of his name brings back memories of the stale air in the bar, and his gaze wandering up and down her body, and how she suddenly felt too exposed in the dress she put on for the gig. Echoes of his comments on her YouTube channel ring in her ear, and Kayla telling her he asked around for her number at one of Carrie’s house parties. It’s not that big of a stretch to imagine him scrolling through her Instagram, the tip of his finger carefully avoiding the heart shape below every picture.

But then her eyes dart back to Luke, with his ruffled hair and the jacket that’s like a blanket on her when he rests it on her shoulders, and every thought of Bobby fades away under the golden glow of his smile.

She boops his nose. “Good thing I have like 300 pictures of us saved in my phone, then.”

“But they’re not new,” he protests with a pout.

“Eh, they’ll work.”

She knows they will. It’s hard to pretend otherwise when her aunt sighs in content at every second picture of them, muttering “Ay, que adorables se ven juntos”, always underlined by Carlos’ gagging noises. Her pictures with Flynn or Alex or Reggie never earn that same reaction, no matter how much Julie searches for a difference in them.

(Truth is, it just feels different with Luke. Not better. Not worse. Just different.)

Luke sighs with a frustration that reminds her of writing sessions where he can’t force his ideas into order. “Fine, but I won’t change my profile pic. It’s my favorite.” And from her prom, which she will absolutely not think about right now.

Staring at the ceiling, Julie lets herself fall down on the mattress, her head resting only a few inches away from his elbows. Her hair must tickle his skin, because he gently brushes it away and twirls a strand around his finger.

“I’m not asking you to,” she replies.

“Good.”

A little pause in which he continues to play with her hair. Her eyes flutter shut, and it takes all her restraint to repress the content sigh on the tip of her tongue.

“So, boundaries.”

“What do you mean?” she asks, eyes still closed, careful to conceal the memory of Flynn’s words in a tone of confusion.

His hand lets go of her hair. “I don’t want to do stuff that makes you uncomfortable, Jules. Fake boyfriend or not, you should always feel safe.”

Fake boyfriend or not, she’s in love with him. Hopelessly, foolishly in love.

His genuine tone – as worried about her well-being as ever – breaks her heart, unsurprisingly so. On days where her nauseating cramps chain her to her hot water bottle, he busks down by the pier for an hour or two just to afford her favorite Ben & Jerry’s flavor that they spoon side by side on her bed. Whenever her grief hits hard again, he lets her sob into his shirt and never lets go before the last tear leaves her behind with a numb feeling. And now, even though she lied to Bobby, he still checks on her boundaries for their play pretend.

Why is he ruining her like that?

It’s a low bar to set, of course, for him to want her to feel safe. But her heart knows nothing of common sense when every word drips out of his mouth like melted Ben & Jerry’s.

So, she swallows and replies, “You should, too.”

As she blinks her eyes open, she’s blinded by the soft smile waiting for her.

“I always feel safe around you, Jules.”

“I do too,” she says softly, her voice caught by the glimmer in his eyes that tells her he means it with every fiber of his soul.

“Good,” he murmurs back.

That’s when she realizes how close he is. Too close, almost. It’d be so easy to kiss him right now, in the solitude of her room and his mouth just a gentle tug away. For a moment, Julie allows herself to live in that fantasy, to imagine a world where he’d kiss her back.

But then her mind unrolls the repulsive list, burying those pictures and all of her hopes underneath it. How could she ever ask him to both be her boyfriend and give up his own desires? How could she expect him to deny himself these experiences when he just had to look at the front row of every gig to find someone more than willing to rip his sleeveless shirts off his chest?

No, she could never kiss him. She’ll just have to take whatever scraps their fake relationship leaves on the floor for her.

She sits up so he’s out of reach. “Any ideas, then? We have to make it believable, after all.”

As he shifts to rest his chin on the mattress, her left knee now threatens to bump against his right hand stretched out on the mattress. In the same heartbeat, his fingertips ghost over her skin, a delicate brush of touch. Leaving a trail of goosebumps behind, he pulls his hand away.

If it wasn’t for the pensive wrinkles on his forehead, Julie wouldn’t know if he just tortured her on purpose.

She steers her gaze away from him anyway. Just in case.

“We could hold hands,” he finally suggests. “I mean, for authenticity.”

“You hold hands with everyone, though.”

“I could only hold yours.”

His answer comes out too fast for him to have thought this through – he must have left his braincell with Alex again. Or that’s what she tells herself before she loses her mind.

“No, you can’t do that to Reggie,” she replies, shaking her head. “He already has abandonment issues.”

Luke crunches his nose before his eyes drop down to her hand. “Okay, but I’m not doing this with him,” he says and takes her hand to gently press a kiss on it, then rests it against his chest as if he found a treasure he never wants to let go.

The bar isn’t low anymore, and any leftover common sense just breezed right out of the open door.

“You’re right, you don’t,” she croaks.

Smiling, he keeps her hand intertwined with his own. Under his warm gaze, she desperately tries to remember anything she learned from her favorite fake dating fics, or really anything other than the cheesy confession scene her imagination acted out in the midnight darkness of the past days.

That’s when she remembers his flannel jacket around her shoulder outside the bar.

“I could steal your clothes?” she suggests, already inhaling deeper as she envisions slipping into one of his hoodies.

One quick glance to her closet, Luke raises both of his eyebrows at her. “You already hoard them, though. I think right now I’m missing about half of my sweaters,” he teases.

And a few of his shirts, which he apparently hasn’t noticed. Yet. But he’ll notice the panic creeping up her face, either because she’s a terrible liar or because he has a sixth sense for when she’s not feeling her best.

So, she throws herself on her stomach and hides her face in her pillow. “We’re so bad at this,” she sighs. 

For a moment, he lets her wallow in silence. Maybe he’ll leave her, or realize what a stupid, reckless idea this was, or…

The mattress shifts under his weight. He melts into her with the entire length of his body, not an ounce of hesitation in his movements. As his body comes to rest, she can feel his chest heaving up and down against her arm, and his breath tickling her neck.

“We’ll figure this out,” he promises quietly, “It can’t be _that_ hard.”

Despite the silent protest she suffocates in her pillow, Luke is right – eventually, they do figure it out. Not on paper like he suggests, but in muttered promises and with his hand gently wandering over her back. Now they’re lying on their sides, their faces in a safe distance from each other. As he mindlessly stares at the blanket, his fingers stroke her hand that’s resting in front of her. He’s wearing a look that tells her he strayed deep into the forests of his mind, perhaps even got lost there, or perhaps he's just chasing the newest melody or lyrical snippet in his imagination.

Either way, he went down a path Julie knows better than to follow.

With every breath, her eyelids gain a weight now that she can’t shake. She’s about to doze off when all of a sudden, Luke blinks back into reality.

“Can I ask you something?” he blurts out, his voice barely above a whisper.

“Sure.”

“So you said you’re not aro, right?”

Ignoring the anxious skip in her heartbeat, she nods.

“Have you… did you ever kiss someone?”

As his last word fades into silence, her mind jumps back in time, to that one fateful sleepover in 8th grade. Flynn had temporarily given up on the idea of Double Trouble in favor of Triple Threat, and was fast asleep on the couch, her unfinished soda forgotten on the table. The flickering lights from the TV screen danced through the room like a mirror ball, painting splashes of colors on Carrie’s face next to her. She leaned in, then, as Carrie’s hand in Julie’s hair moved in sweet, excruciating slow-motion compared to the racing jumps of her heart. She thinks about the scent of Carrie’s conditioner lingering in her nose, and the taste of her Chapstick.

(That weekend, she bought a peach one for the last time.)

Breathing out, Julie replaces these pictures with the sight of Luke’s hazel eyes. “Yeah. Why?”

He scrunches his nose. “Just curious.”

“Curious,” she echoes.

A heavy sigh accompanies his eyeroll as he gives in. “Okay, I just didn’t want to be your first kiss. Um, as your fake boyfriend, I mean.” When she gapes at him, he quickly adds, “Just in case, I wasn’t trying to, uh…”

He’s rubbing his neck, and avoiding her eyes.

_Oh no_.

“You think we’ll have to kiss?” she asks, hoping it comes out gentle where she drowns in panic.

He doesn’t put his hand back on hers. Her skin tickles where he touched it just a minute ago, and she’d ask him to continue if he didn’t look so mortified with this red flush on his cheeks, and like he wants to run away from her. He never ran away from her before.

“What? No! I mean. No. I’m sure we won’t. That’d be weird, right?”

So he really doesn’t want to kiss her. Which is fine. She knew that, no big deal.

Why is not fine?

It has to be. His eyes beg for her reassurance, and Julie realizes that she’ll have to suck it up and pull off a lie for once if she wants to keep him on her bed. In her life.

“Yeah, weird. Totally,” she replies, adding a smile that tastes bitter on her lips.

If she dreamed of kissing him a hundred times before, he won’t ever know.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Song references in this chapter:  
> Wildest Dreams - Taylor Swift  
> I Knew You Were Trouble - Taylor Swift  
> Treacherous - Taylor Swift  
> All Too Well- Taylor Swift
> 
> Spanish in this chapter:  
> "Ay, que adorables se ven juntos" - "Oh, how cute you two look together!"
> 
> I want to thank [Aaron](https://archiveofourown.org/users/captainkippen/pseuds/captainkippen) and my dear friend Miri for helping out with ideas for the boundary discussion at the end of this chapter, your inspiration made this scene so much better.


End file.
